


When I'm facing a ghost from my past (I might need your support)

by PleaseDontFindThisMom



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BAMF Peter Parker, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Avengers, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:47:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25902295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PleaseDontFindThisMom/pseuds/PleaseDontFindThisMom
Summary: Seven years after being raped by Skip Westcott Peter sees him again in the lobby of Stark Tower. During those seven years Peter has grown into goddamn survivor who can deal with Skip's BS (even if afterwards he might need little care and support from his family).
Relationships: Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Peter Parker & James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Sam Wilson, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 5
Kudos: 519





	When I'm facing a ghost from my past (I might need your support)

Honestly, you would think that after all these years Peter’s life would stop punching him in the face again and again. But it seems like his Parker luckTM is just as thriving as always.

The day wasn’t really anything special. There were no bad omens to give him heads up about what’s about to happen. No shivers running up his spine when he woke up, no out of line accidents or suspicious incidents. No, the day was so disgustingly normal it would have not been remembered if not for this.

If not for the man standing four meters away in front of Peter in the lobby of SI.

If not for the man reappearing in Peter’s life when last time they saw they were in court for restraining order against the man for raping Peter repeatedly.

No fanfare, no build up, just old ghost showing up out of nowhere when Peter was trying to get to his internship. Unlucky accident not intended by either party if the confused expression on the man’s face is anything to go by.

Peter has no idea how long he has stared at the man clothed in a dark blue suit, suitcase in hand and hair neatly groomed. He is still taller than Peter (which is honestly not surprising - it wouldn’t be far fetched to just assume that the male population of the whole Universe is taller than Peter as a basis) though now it’s just by some inches. His build is more brawny than last time Peter saw him, nowhere near Captain America, but more brawny than your average person. He looks healthy, charismatic as ever and well off if his suit is anything to go by not to even mention the ridiculously expensive looking black shoes. All in all, there is absolutely no way to tell that the man raped Peter mere seven years ago.

After what seems like days, weeks, small eternities, Steven Westcott starts to smile and walks to stand in front of Peter. Not too close as to seem intrusive by anyone looking, but plenty close enough to make the scared child inside Peter shriek in fear.

“Peter Parker! Never thought that I would see you here of all places. How have you been? How are your aunt and uncle?”

His voice is like binding silk on Peter’s skin and it takes a total of seven seconds to collect his swirling thoughts to answer something and even then he just says first thing that comes to mind. “Good, good… Aunt May is doing well.” He doesn’t mention Ben and Skip doesn’t point it out.

“Good to hear. Gosh, it feels like a century since we last saw. How about we go to grab a drink?”

Peter’s brain is overworking itself in a desperate attempt of saying something back. It kinda wants to say yes just to get the conversation moving, say something, anything to please the man but at the same time it’s trying to get Peter’s legs moving, away from the man. Then there’s the small part that really wants to tear the blonde man in front of Peter’s face a new one for daring to speak to him after everything. Eventually the small part wins.

“Skip, what the hell are you doing here?” The sudden change in Peter’s tone surprises Skip, but even then you could only notice it in the way he stares before flashing his winning smile.

“Why, for work of course,” he swings the suitcase in his hand to make a point, “but I think asking what you are doing here is much more important of a question.”

“I intern here,” Peter all but blurts out, cursing his inability to stop answering the blond’s questions (the man doesn’t deserve the answers, doesn’t deserve time out of his day). Peter has a restraining order, but as Skip evidently didn’t know about him being here, he really doesn’t know what to do.

“Really? Can’t say I’m surprised, you were always the smartest of a bunch, weren’t you Einstein?”

The old nickname sends chills down Peter’s spine. He doesn’t want Skip to call him that. He doesn’t want to talk to Skip. Frankly, he wishes for Earth to open up and swallow the man inside.

“Not that this hasn’t been fun, but go take care of your business. And for the future, don’t come here. As I said, I intern here, and coming repeatedly to my place of work now that you know of it is a violation of the restraining order.”

Peter is surprised as to how steady he sounds. His poor panicking mind is still screaming and half of him wants to run. But he straightens his back slightly and looks at Skip straight in the eyes, trying his best to look authoritative, in control. To his disappointment, Skip merely smirks, far more put together than Peter could ever hope to be.

“Why, Einstein, don’t you want to meet me anymore? I remember you enjoying my company in the past.”

Memories of unwanted touches, whispered words and threats fill Peter’s mind.

‘You are not going to tell anyone, right? Wouldn’t want others to know what a whore you are’

‘I promise it will feel good’

‘Here, touch me here Einstein. You know how to take care of me, don’t you?’

‘What a slutty sight, you sucking me off. You were just made for this weren’t you?’

Peter shakes his head. Now is not the time to dwell in the dreadful memories. He tries to collect himself yet once again, doing breathing exercises in his head to calm himself.

“I will go now, and I sincerely hope never to see you again. I repeat, never set your foot in this tower again.”

Peter tries to walk around Skip, ready to exit the scene and go eat that one pint of ice cream in the freezer, but Skip just grabs his hand. Peter spins around, ready to hit the man or sob, he really doesn’t know. He is stronger now than all those years ago but being face to face with Skip again makes him shrink deep into himself, inside the wounded child still trembling in fear.

“Let go.” Peter’s voice wavers and he knows that he is shaking at this point. He makes a half assed attempt at freeing his hand, but can’t seem to muster up the strength to break the hold.

“Don’t be so stuck up, Einstein. All I’m trying to do is some reconnection with you, and you are just pushing me aside.”

The words worm their way inside Peter’s head. He feels small, weak, helpless. He looks Skip into eyes, brown meeting blue. Feeling his breath fasten, Peter makes one desperate attempt at freeing his hand again and if not for his super strength he would not have succeeded. Surprised by his success, Peter stumbles a couple steps back, holding the freed hand to his chest. Skip doesn’t make further attempts at taking his hand, settling for stepping closer and hovering over Peter’s figure. Peter tries desperately to get his breathing in order, before all but spitting out at Skip: “Go away. Do not touch me, do not come back to the tower and do not seek me out ever. If you do not go, I will call the security.”

They stand there, a small audience looking at them all over the lobby. Skip tries to apparently break Peter’s resolve by looking at him - or rather trying to dig daggers under his skin without speaking. Peter feels small and weak, but he knows he has the upper hand and doesn’t crawl away. Not being in control clearly doesn’t sit well with Skip and Peter can almost taste the growing rage inside the older man. But being in the middle of a busy lobby really doesn’t give Skip too much leeway and soon he scoffs. He looks down at Peter before absurdly leaning down and whispering in his ear:

“I may not have made you mine today, but that day will come again. After all, you are only a slut for me to dominate over, Einstein.”

Peter stops breathing. Skip straightens up, gives an angelic smile to anyone looking and walks away. When he is out of the doors, Peter’s knees give in and he falls to the ground, heavily breathing and stuttering mess. Some people at the lobby give him worried eyes, but no one makes an effort to ask him about it. After ten long minutes of trying to get his breathing under control, to ground himself into reality again, the brunet finally rises up. There’s stray tears on his cheeks, making their way to the jaw and neck. He is still visibly shaking, heart hammering in his chest and legs barely able to support his weight. Despite all this Peter slowly makes his way into the elevator. He doesn’t say where to go, but FRIDAY closes the doors and sets the elevator going anyway.

“Peter, you are displaying signs of distress. Would you like me to alert Boss?”

“Thank you, but not right now FRIDAY.” Peter is still a heaving mess as he answers the AI’s question. The elevator is going slower than usual, courtesy of FRIDAY, which Peter is thankful for. 

“Of course Peter. Boss is in the lab,” the AI answers as the elevator comes to stop. Peter steps out after a short nod and makes his way into the labs. He knows why FRIDAY took him there; according to every manual Tony has made to FRIDAY regarding Peter’s panic attacks, he shouldn’t be left alone for too long. That doesn’t mean he wants to appear like a complete mess in front of the older man though. Seeing Tony tinkering away on his table - one of the many tables - he takes one last, deep breath before attempting to look normal and stepping into the lab.

“Hey Mr Stark!”

“Hey Underooooo-” Tony cuts himself short after taking in Peter’s appearance. “Why so down, are you okay?” 

Tony’s voice is dripping with worry and Peter feels shitty about kind of everything. So it’s no wonder this breaks the dams and he starts crying. Not in the cute way people cry in movies, but whining, snot faced and probably remarkably red. Tony stands up and makes his way to Peter, wrapping his hands around the smaller one's shoulder. Peter hugs his almost-father-but-not-really-but-still-kinda-father back and cries on his shirt. Tony keeps petting his hair, saying sweet nothings into his ear and just kinda is there.

And that is enough.

After stopping his crying, Peter feels better. He told Skip off, he is safe here and he is cared for. Collecting himself, he prepares to answer the questions to come. Before he can start however, Tony shushes him.

“You look like you are in serious need of pick-me-up and I think that Clint hasn’t eaten the pint of ice cream. So how about we go up, you eat some and then we talk.”

Peter nods, relieved (he really wasn’t ready to talk). They make their way into the elevator in content silence. Peter is still holding onto Tony’s now snot and tear soiled shirt. Tony’s hand keeps petting his hair and when the elevator doors open again, they continue their way quietly to the couch. Sam is sitting there, but upon seeing Peter’s red face he just scoots over to make space. Natasha, who was sitting at the table, doesn’t say anything upon noticing Peter either, but goes to quietly retrieve the ice cream and a spoon. Tony nods in thanks as the redhead returns with the frozen dessert and sits Peter down. Peter takes the ice cream from Natasha with a grateful smile and starts eating mutely. Tony keeps petting Peter’s head and Sam almost absent mindedly starts rubbing circles on the brunet’s arm. Natasha sits on the floor, leaning to Sam’s legs and rubs the teenager’s leg, soothing movements up and down his shin. After half of the ice cream has disappeared, Natasha decides that it’s safe to speak.

“What is wrong, ма́ленький паук?” Natasha keeps her voice soft, comforting. It’s the warm, heartfelt tone that she only uses with her little spider. Peter rises his eyes from the ice cream and swallows. No one says anything, giving Peter time to collect himself. 

“I saw someone I really didn’t want to see,” Peter starts, voice low. That is not nearly everything, not even scarp of a surface, but it’s a start. After everything with Skip went down all those years ago he saw a therapist for a little while and hasn’t got a chance to talk about it since then. But here, at the tower, with his family, he wants to talk. They have always been there for him and while he is scared shitless for their reaction he really wants to talk about everything to them. Confide in them. 

No one urges Peter to continue. Instead Sam turns slightly to face Peter better, hand still stroking in circles. Natasha leans her head on Sam’s knee and brings her other hand to stroke the leg too. Tony leans closer to Peter’s side, his warmth comforting the teenager.

“It was down in the lobby. He just... was there. And I, really, never wanted to see him ever again. But he was there, and he noticed me and. And he came to talk.” Peter gulps. “So we, kind, of, talked. And it just raised memories. And he wasn’t supposed to be here. But he was, and we talked.” Peter knows he is starting to talk in circles, but he also doesn’t know how to get to the point. As he is contemplating, Rhodey walks in. No one spares him a look as his gaze sweeps over the room, taking account of Peter’s state and people around him. He walks to the kitchen and returns with a cup of water. Sitting next to Natasha on the floor, facing Peter, he slowly offers the glass. Peter takes it, thankful, and takes a long sip. After drinking, Peter collects his thoughts again. Start with a name.

“His name is, it is, umm, Steven Westcott. Or Skip. That’s what I, I used to call him. He was my babysitter, when I was younger.” He is so near the point it frightens him. What if they think he is weak? Kick him out of the team (he isn’t officially Avenger to protect his identity but he is part of the team in every other way)? Hate him? What if-

“Yes?”

Peter flinches. Sam is looking at him, eyes steady, but full of warmth. Peter looks into his eyes for a long moment, but finds no doubt, anger, disappointment or anything negative in them, only worry. Cutting the descending train of thoughts, Peter takes a moment to collect himself yet once again, feeling more confident. His team - his family - wouldn’t hate him, wouldn’t be disappointed in him. They would support him. He just needs to give them the chance to be there for him. With that in mind Peter opens his mouth again.

“So, he was my babysitter. He was also, kind of my only friend back then. But then, one day. Well one day he gave me these magazines.” Pause. “Porn magazines.”

Tony conceals his gasp badly, but no one reacts otherwise. They have sinking feeling where this is going, but the doe eyed teenager doesn’t need their panic or anger yet right now.

“He, he said he wanted to… do…. those things. With me. And even though I thought they were disgusting and I said that I don’t want to do it, we, we did in the end.”

“He raped me.”

“Repeatedly.”

You could hear a pin drop. The comforting strokes never stop, but the others have stiffened noticeably. Everyone’s breathing is little heavier.

“After some weeks, I reached my breaking point. So, when my aunt and uncle noticed something was wrong with me and asked, I couldn’t lie. So I told them. Everything. We, we took it to the court and he was sentenced. I don’t remember what it was exactly, but he wasn’t 18 yet so, yeah. But I did get a restraining order. And that was supposed to be it.”

Peter took a deep breath, taking another sip of water. He was well underway into the story, the hardest was over.

“But he was here, for business. And he didn’t know that I was here. He tried to talk, asked me for drinks, but, but I said that he should get over with his business and go away. And when he didn’t, I told I would get security. I told him to never come back, never to seek me out and so.”

And that was it honestly. That was all that happened. But…

“But… I was so scared. I felt like a little kid all over again, like I didn’t have the strength to shake his hand off, like if he talked, I wouldn’t be able to talk back. And I know that it is stupid, I know that I am stronger now, but I couldn’t help but feel small and weak and useless. I can lift a building, but with him it feels like I can barely lift my own hand. And the memories that got back, the nickname, the touches, the smell, all of it, it was just too much. And it’s been so many years, but it kinda feels like it was yesterday, like I’m still on that bed. And when he said those words, it was like I never really escaped, like I was still just sobbing under his weight as he did whatever he pleased. And I hate it. I hate feeling hopeless. I hate him.”

The last sentence was what truly snapped Peter out of his spiel. He didn’t hate anyone. He protected the little guy, he was there for others, he fought villains, he went up against people in the wrong, but he didn’t hate. Yet deep inside, he hated Skip. He truly did hate him. He was scared of him and he was disgusted by him and he hated him.

The four adults looked at each others, silently communicating what to do. They wanted to go look for the son of a bitch that hurted the boy they all dearly loved so badly. But they also wanted to stay there, keep comforting the doe eyed goodness sitting in the middle of them, sobbing softly. Through the telepathic chatting, they came to a conclusion.

“Rhodes, Natasha, go over security feed and see what you can come up with. Talk with the legal team and check that there was indeed no violation of the restraining order. If there was, take care of it. Look that we no longer do business through him.”

Natasha and Rhodey nod, expecting the orders. Peter looks up at them as they rise up. Natasha gives the brunet kiss on the forehead and Rhodey ruffles his hair before they go. Tony then pulls Peter onto his lap, hugging him tightly. It doesn’t take long for him to hug him back, melt into it. Sam takes the water and ice cream from his hands and puts them on the table before coming to sit down behind Peter. He starts to rub his back.

“We are glad that you told us about what happened. It must have been unbelievably hard to tell us and even harder to go through all that. We are proud of you; for telling us and for coming through.” Sam keeps rubbing the small teenagers back, speaking softly. Tony has to strain his hearing to actually hear, but the more sensitive teenager hears just fine and starts to sob softly, this time from relief. Smallest of smiles makes it’s way to his lips.

And if by the next hour every person in their non-dysfunctional-dysfunctional family had heard about what happened and had came into the living room to be with the teenager, if Steven Westcott was transferred out of New York, if in two hours they were having improvised movie night just to hear Peter laugh at the cliche jokes, that was only bonus.

Because right now, Peter felt alright.


End file.
